


Long Time In The Making

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Break Up, Toronto Cricket Skating and Curling Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Javi does all the things a single guy does after a break-up... and then has an epiphany that has been years in the making.
Relationships: Javier Fernández/Yuzuru Hanyu
Comments: 24
Kudos: 142





	Long Time In The Making

**Author's Note:**

> This is it. The 100th Figure Skating RPF fic I have posted on AO3. I was looking at my writer statistics for 2019 yesterday and realized that my word count was just under 180.000 words, and that I had posted 99 fics... so of course it had to be remedied. I am so happy that I was able to get back to writing regularly this year, and to think that I have somehow produced so many stories in the period from April to December is crazy. 
> 
> Thank YOU, everyone who has read, commented and left kudos on my works. Your kind feedback and encouragement mean the world to me, and if I was able to make your day a bit brighter with a story, then I am happy! 
> 
> Here's to a wonderful 2020!

Javi does all the things a single guy does after a break up – he throws himself into his work, gets in shape, gets his abs back, starts looking better again after the unshaved misery of the last few months. He even gets that laser eye-surgery he’ had never quite dared to schedule before, all for this new, spangling Javi 2.0.

Javi is fine. He does all the things a single guy does after a break up – even though he isn’t actually sad, or down, or heartbroken. Things had been less than rosy between him and Marina towards the end, which had been a long time coming, and on the day she finally told him that she wanted out, Javi was surprised, but mostly… relieved. He is glad now that they have managed to stay civil, that they might even be able to be friends in a not too distant future.

Still, his friends insist that he has just been dumped and that it’s terrible, so Javi plays along. He goes skiing with the guys, goes out with friends, drinks a little too much at times and regrets it the next day.

It is on one of the few unwisely-drunk nights that his friend Pedro drapes an arm around Javi’s shoulders and says: “Man, that girl has been looking at you all evening!”

Javi had not even noticed. He now peers at the girl Pedro nods towards, and she gives him a small smile, and that is how Javi – after much cajoling from Pedro and the rest of his bunch of male friends – finds himself stumbling out of the bar and back to his place with the young, petite Asian.

They kiss and make out, and her Spanish is nearly perfect as she tells him to undress and teases him about being slow, but her R’s are a tiny bit off and suddenly all Javi can think of is _medalla de prrrata _and how naïve and young they had both been then, and how much he misses Yuzu.

The girl – Miyako, he thinks she said her name was – pushes him down against his bed, straddles him and rakes her nails lightly down his chest. With a grin, she informs him that she’s out of patience, and starts fiddling at his fly with nimble fingers, and Javi closes his eyes and thinks of nothing.

She mutters something in Japanese – and suddenly Javi’s stomach flips, and he can’t.

“I can’t,” he whispers, opens his eyes, and he gently pushes her away. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he adds, feeling feverish and way more inebriated than he thought he was, mind full of dark eyes, dark hair, and the sound of blades on fresh ice.

She clambers off his lap and looks at him, all sharp eyes, and she says, once again in her nearly perfect Spanish: “You’re rebounding, aren’t you?”

Javi stares at her and opens his mouth, but she goes on before he can get a word out.

  
“Why do I always run into the ones that are a fucking mess,” she laments, and the dramatic head-shake is so Spanish Javi can’t believe she’s actually from Japan. She hastily pulls up the strap of her bra that had slipped and then reaches for her top.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “ Javi babbles, feeling like an asshole.

“Yeah, yeah,” Miyako says with a sigh. “You’re just in love with someone else.”

It’s not until she leaves – with Javi awkwardly showing her out, apologizing once again – that Javi realizes that she is right. It’s like a kick in the chest and Javi staggers back to his bed, rubbing at his face.

He is indeed in love with someone else. Except it’s not his ex-girlfriend.

*

It is harder than Javi expected. Being in love with a man would be one thing – sure, he has never been with one, or at least not officially, but this is the 21st century and Javi is sure he’d be fine, his friends would be fine, his family would still love him.

Being in love with Yuzu… It sends cold shivers down Javi’s spine, wondering how long this must have been in the making, thinking back to every touch, every conversation, every hug, and analyzing everything in light of his recent epiphany.

It makes perfect sense, when Javi thinks about it, and yet… He can’t do this. What could he even do, possibly? Show up at Yuzu’s door with a bouquet of flowers and tell him hey, I think I love you? I think I have for a very long time? He’s sure Yuzu would die laughing, then lean on Javi and say, “you’re so funny, Javi,” just like he always does whenever Javi cracks a joke.

It is impossible. And yet… Javi wonders. He thinks back to some of the things Yuzu had said over the course of the years, to how they had always been pulled to one another as if by magnetic force, to how easy it had always seemed to simply be with Yuzu, how they would understand each other even without words. He wonders… and then shuts himself up, stomps out the treacherous ideas.

He tries desperately not to think of Yuzu too much, then ends up thinking of him even more desperately, at inconvenient times. Like when he is in bed, staring at the ceiling and remembering the scent of Yuzu’s shampoo, all herbs and lemons, the scent of summer even though Yuzu is a winter creature through and through.

He double-taps pictures of Yuzu on Instagram before he knows what he’s doing, then decides to leave the likes, because he’s sure people will have made screenshots already, and removing the evidence would just stir up speculation.

He tears up when he sees a photo of Yuzu clutching his golden iPod with Javi’s autograph on the case. It had been a joke, back at Autumn Classic. _Sign for me, Javi, for good luck,_ Yuzu had said, even though Javi knows Yuzu doesn’t believe in luck. Yuzu believes in hard work, sweat, and pain. Javi had signed, of course, and they had hugged, lingering in the embrace a bit longer than maybe a normal pair of friends would. Back then Javi had still been trying to save his relationship. Back then, when he spotted Yuzu striding down the corridor, media swarming around him, he had ascribed the flurry of emotions in his stomach to nostalgia, perhaps a tug of sadness that he was not there to compete… Now he knows. Now it all makes sense.

Now Javi is a mess. He cries into his pillow, and into Effie’s fur, and into his sister’s shoulder when she comes to visit and asks how he’s doing. He imagines what it would feel like to kiss Yuzu, then promptly pours himself a shot to try and forget the sweet tingle inside his mouth at the mere thought. He messes up in an interview, blurting out that yes, he is in love when the reporter throws that unexpected question. He barely has enough wit about himself to twist the adjectives and pronouns a little, make it a Japanese woman, and no, not a skater, how nice is that?

Javi hates himself.

When Yuzu texts him on New Year’s Eve, Javi stares at his phone for a good five minutes, eyes blurry and heart pounding, and then texts back.

_You too! Celebrate well, happy 2020! _Safe, friendly, generic.

Then it is midnight, and everyone around him is kissing, everyone around him is happy, and Javi picks up his phone and texts: _Would you mind if I came back to TCC? Brian offered me a job. _

It takes all of thirty seconds for his phone to buzz. _Come_, reads the message. Then another message appears. _I miss you._

*

In the end, it is not that hard.

There are hugs when Javi returns to the club. Enthusiastic, happy hugs from everyone… And from Yuzu the one that lasts and lingers while Yuzu’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and his face rests against the side of Javi’s neck, the scent of Yuzu’s shampoo filling Javi’s nostrils and making his heart thump.

There is the crisp sound of blades on fresh ice, and a rhythm that is as familiar as breathing, even though Javi can’t quite keep up anymore, and technically should not be skating when he’s there to coach. But nobody minds, least of all Brian and Tracy, who give them a fond smile and utter something about how they are finally back together.

There is Yuzu – falling back into the old routines they have shared for years, and creating new ones with Javi… It is easy, the way it had always been easy to get along, to find the empty spaces in the puzzle of the other and fill them. It is also hard, to share lunches, or sit with Yuzu while they sip their drinks, because half of the time Javi just wants to reach for Yuzu’s hand, tuck his hair behind his ear, kiss him. And sometimes he does, not kiss, of course, but touch – Javi touches Yuzu’s hand, touches his hair, secretly delighted when Yuzu lets him, when Yuzu smiles at him, when Yuzu blushes…

There are the long hard days of Yuzu’s practices, and Javi sitting there long after his own sessions – when he is done teaching the kids, he stays behind to watch Yuzu from the cafeteria, wincing as Yuzu falls, and falls, and falls on the quad Axel.

There is the day Yuzu lands the fucker, and roars in triumph, fists pumping in the air and his face split in a grin as blinding as the sun. When Yuzu stumbles out of that session – two successful quad Axels, and twice as many stumbles, later – Javi is there, waiting. Yuzu hurls himself into his outstretched arms, and Javi has never felt better, never felt more alive, never felt more buoyant and happy than in that moment.

“I did iiiit, Javi, I did it!” Yuzu all but squeals, and Javi squeezes harder, holding Yuzu close and laughing along with him.

“You did!” he says, excited, his head thrumming with the thrill of it, his heart elated. “You’re amazing. You’re so amazing. I love you.”

Time stops. Javi feels his mouth drop open as the monumental stupidity of what he had just said sinks in. He feels Yuzu peel himself off, out of Javi’s embrace, inch by painful inch, the heat of him going, going, gone.

Yuzu blinks, once, twice, his hands still on Javi’s shoulders, his lips forming a perfect O of surprise.

Javi wants to scream. Wants to cry. Wants to bash his own head against the wall because how could he fuck up so much, how could he –

Yuzu pushes at him, pushes him backwards, and Javi didn’t expect this, didn’t expect Yuzu to react so violently, Yuzu, who is only hard with himself, gentle with everyone else.

He steps backwards, and feels the door swing open behind him as Yuzu reaches around him for the door handle with one hand, the other still on Javi’s shoulder, pushing him back, back, back.

The door slams shut. And Yuzu’s lips slam into his.

*

It is later, much later, that Javi comes back down to earth. He comes back to reality only to find it new and changed and exciting.

It is a reality where, incredibly, he can now kiss Yuzu. He can kiss him, and kiss him, and only let him go because they both need to breathe.

He can hold Yuzu, and feel the heat of his skin where that Under Armour shirt Javi has definitely not been staring at these past weeks has ridden up.

He can look at Yuzu, and repeat – stupidly, dazedly – what he had said and not feel a surge of panic when the words fall out of his mouth this time. “I love you,” he says, and runs his hand through Yuzu’s hair in an attempt to smooth it back into place.

Yuzu smiles – not as blinding as a sun, but rather as bright as two, a dual sunrise – and laughs. “Took you longer than quad Axel took me,” he says, eyes crinkling into crescents.

Javi snorts, and squeezes Yuzu’s waist, feeling warm and tingly all over. “You’ve been trying quad axel since 2015,” he says, mildly defensive.

Yuzu doesn’t say anything, just quirks a poignant eyebrow at Javi. Javi blinks. And shit. Shit. He remembers 2015, his first world title, his happiness, and Yuzu crying and smiling and crying – he distinctly remembers how he had wanted to give his gold to Yuzu, to give him all the golds, everything, just to make him happy –

“You’re right,” Javi breathes in astonishment because of course, because this really has been _long_ in the making.

Yuzu just smirks. Then his expression softens, and he lays his palm against Javi’s chest, right over his heart. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader: If you're 18+ and would like to come chat with me and a whole bunch of other fic authors from the figure skating fandom, come join us and talk to us in our Discord server. You can join using [this link](https://discord.gg/DyxBV5mXg2).


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